Monday, August 16, 2010
Despite Mary Poppin's chirpy encouragement, it's years since I've flown a kite.
Maybe even - gulp! - decades. (Yes. Plural.)
I used to be completely obsessed with kites as a kid, strangely enough, and regularly tried to make them myself using, er, plastic bags and canes and baling twine. The last time I had a go of a kite that would actually take off - none of my DIY numbers were capable of becoming airborne, would you believe - was on the shores of Lough Corrib in Galway, when myself and the sister and Mam and Dad were on our summer holidays with my aunt and uncle and three cousins.
The kite - I remember it being green and purple, but it could just as easily have been yellow with orange spots, given my appalling memory - eventually ended up in a tree, which Dad was devastated about, but it was great fun while it lasted.
Happily, I had better luck playing with Himself's nephew's kite down on Clonea strand yesterday...
Labels: Me me me